Page 15 of Deep End

“And by ‘this,’ you mean . . . ?”

“This block of yours.”

“Right.” I shake my head. “No. No, it hasn’t.”

“Not even at a smaller scale?”

“Not really.”

She glances down at her notebook. “I did some research. It appears that lost move syndrome is a typical phenomenon in athletes. A sudden inability to perform a skill you had previously mastered.” She recites the last bit, like it’s a definition she’s quoting. Her eyes find mine through horn-rimmed glasses. “Does this description match what you are experiencing?”

I take as long as I can before nodding. Maybe the more I delay this, the less true it will become.

“Twisties,” I say eventually. “Or yips. That’s what we divers call them.”

CHAPTER 8

PENELOPE:Funny story.

PENELOPE:I woke up this morning with a huge headache. Couldn’t figure out why. Then I remembered what happened last night and started praying for my bones to turn into lava.

PENELOPE:I have no words for how dumb I was. I think I only had two drinks—I have no clue how I got that drunk. And it’s not an excuse. I’m so sorry, Vandy.

As she should be.

SCARLETT:I think Coach’s home brew might be stronger than regular beer. The twins were pretty wasted, too, and I ended up driving Victoria’s car back home.

PENELOPE:Bet the NCAA would LOVE to hear that.

SCARLETT:Moving forward, though, please don’t blurt out facts about my sex life.

PENELOPE:God, I promise I won’t! I swear I’m not usually that shitty. And honestly, I’m your captain. What I did was totally sexual harassment, and you have every right to report me.

SCARLETT:It’s okay. You’re forgiven, this once. Plus, this whole thing will give us both an edge in future Never have I ever games.

PENELOPE:LMAO two truths anda lie, too.

PENELOPE:“I pee in the pool.” “I hate tomatoes.” “I once got so wasted that I tried to get my ex and my teammate to fuck each other.”

SCARLETT:Very worried atm since I’ve seen you eat tomatoes with my own two eyes.

PENELOPE:They pump so much chlorine in there!

SCARLETT:I’m officially making myself unknow this about you. Never mention it again.

SCARLETT:Is Lukas mad?

PENELOPE:I called him this morning to grovel, but he just shrugged it off. It’s impossible to make Lukas mad. He’s literally the most unfazed human in the universe.

A few days ago I’d have guessed the opposite—that he’d be the silent treatment type, surly and prone to anger. But that was just a hunch, based on my general assumption that men can be scary and unpredictable.

Not all men, I’m sure. Maybe not even most men. But with my past, I cannot help distrusting them until they give me reason not to. Lukas Blomqvist, though, seems fairly unobjectionable.

I have no real insight into his personality, but following Coach’s cookout he becomes something of an intrusive thought for me, and I find myself taking time out of pondering the German sentence structure, to . . . gather information about him. Mostly, through my own recollections.

Try as I might, I can’t remember meeting him during my recruitment trip. There are snippets of him here and there, though, like confetti stuck to my hair after a New Year’s Eve ball drop. I didn’t mean to take them home, but still get to examine them, and I’m glad for that.

Freshman year, Halloween, when some kids broke into the diving well to egg and toilet paper the pool. Lukas, who was already captain, volunteered the men’s team to clean it up. When they started bitching, a twitch of his eyebrow was all they needed to fall quiet.

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